October Wind
by Willowfly
Summary: In the aftermath of battle, Leonardo teeters on the edge of life and death. Oneshot.


October Wind

BY Willowfly

A/N: A drabble-ish ficlet with a heavy dose of character study. Mostly just shadows of my mind come to play. More poetry than plot.

* * *

Living in the shadows steals so much away, robs you of your identity as it crawls beneath your skin and makes you become a part of it. It holds you tight until you forget about the sun and let your pupils dilate, drink in the darkness and it consumes you, turns your blood black in your veins.

Maybe that's why my blood is black now. The pool once was crimson stills like a quiet pond filling the cracks in the broken pavement. My eyes are heavy as I watch it ripple, taken by the October wind like a forgotten lake of life, a rift to darker things. It yawns and then consumes, reaches in and pulls the world closer to sleep, closer to the aching cold.

I'm in shock. I have to be. The world is underwater and everything twists beneath its tides. The moon pulls it. Don had told me once, staring at the ocean waves with that dreamy look in his eyes. The moon. I can feel the Earth turn when I press my hand to freezing ground, feel the warmth inside, the beating of a heart pounding with my own. It lives. It dies. It is reborn. Everything is caught within the cycle.

The heart beats. I close my eyes.

They found us—an ambush. Those shadows struck like wraiths born in the dark. Left me wasted, feeling the heartbeat of the Earth as it shifts, cycles with the moon in the cold October wind. Always, growing colder. Eyes edging black like picture frames, all the hungry shadows watch with open mouths. I recognize their faces. I recognize their wounds. They've come to see their killer's death by the spreading lake. The moon. The stars are growing dim.

When I was young, I had never seen the sky. I dreamed it would be beautiful. My father brought us above ground. The sky was sick, the Earth was poisoned. I learned that I could never escape the filth and concrete ceilings. The city is too bright for stars.

_Leonardo, maybe this is destiny._

Maybe I'm meant to die…

The remaining ninja left us. Only two we left alive before the end, the nightmare, the Elite. Those glowing eyes still haunt me, even as I close my own. Blink, heavy as concrete. I see the moon, the waiting eye. Red. It is a brand I will forever carry, burned into my flesh.

Raphael wanted to go after them. I told him no.

_Maybe this is destiny._

Life's blood sacrifice trickling like a river down my cheek, dripping from my chin, a strange warmth trailing down my arm turns cold as fate robs it of its soul. The wind grows colder. The shadows grow. Their hunger deepens. Their open mouths call out for blood.

_Maybe this is destiny, maybe this is death._

Heavy eyes and tired bones. The dark, the moon. Destiny calls to silence all the shadows, the ever-hungry Earth. Only the voices of my victims, the judgment of the wind can save me now—anchored, lost, forgotten, and still dreaming of the sky.

_Leonardo… _

_Leo…_

"Leo!"

The panic in his voice. Familiarity sweeps into sudden awareness. A ragged breath. It rips me conscious and slams me back into the cold, blood dripping thickly like molasses to land sickly on my shoulder, heavy with an audible 'pat'. I hear it echo through the alley so loudly in my mind it hurts. It slides slowly on its wayward journey to feed the starving earth.

Everything's pounding, pulsing, spinning, shifting like sound is the greatest weapon known to man. The sound of traffic roaring like a hurricane wind, voices that could wake the dead from their graves. Screams, shouts, echoes crying out my name, crawling up the walls and calling down the heavens, all those millions of forgotten stars.

"Leo!"

I crack my eyes open and wonder if I'm dead, because the shadows are gone. White, as if the stars had heard their names.

I groan a pitiful sound that makes me wince as my fingers trace the bloody trail and find its birthplace, the gaping rip in the flesh above my eye. I remember now…

Foot ninja—few then many, just as always. I had almost grinned, as if my katana thirsted for a taste of their blood. But war was not a happy thing—it's a blood-lust that poisons the mind and hardens the heart. Honor is what binds me, not blood, not lust, not revenge. Honor, plain as day and deep as night.

Katana flashing in October sky, remembering the battle, remembering the training, their master's well-trained hands. They all went down so easily, every demon born form Hell. Some would lay there until morning, gaping mouths and hollowed eyes, as if someone scooped out their souls. Others would come to clean the blood and carry away their dead.

Mike was grinning; blue eyes shine like victory. Raph turned to run after the last. The two. My fate. I reached out to stop him and he stayed, sheathing his weapons, then turned to walk for home.

They called the Elite.

Home would have to wait. The fight had just begun.

That was when fate looked me in the eyes and I was cut and wasted, left picking up the pieces, bleeding with the moon.

The battle was quick, sewn together like a mindless blur of movement, breath, and hands. Nothing left but raw and fleeting memory, sound, a pool of blood left to remember me as consciousness balances on a knife blade's edge. With a touch I could be swept away forever, scattered on the wind. Just a touch, just a pull, just a shadow.

Mike was cut, a yelp, a scream, a sharp blade through muscle, blood, and veins. His hand pressed against the wound to staunch the flow, leaking between his fingers.

That's what had sealed it. That's what proved to be an end, an enemy, my fate, a reason in a world that needed none. Only had to whisper. I had turned my eyes so quickly, surrendering instinct for only an instant when the world went red and nothing. I saw the hidden stars.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was the cold October wind finally calling me home.

"Leo! _Please._"

Blue eyes bright with fear. He touches the blood. The victory's gone. He lifts up from the cold concrete and the world collapses back to dark. The heartbeat fades, but still, I feel the moon is watching.

Home. Take me home. Far from blood, cold, pain and ugliness. All this darkness is poisoning my mind and hardening my heart. I can't give in to the shadows.

Maybe this is fate. Maybe this is destiny. Maybe this is how death feels when it rips away your soul. But I am swept and broken, lead into the dark like a lost and lonely child, and the cold October wind forever calls my name.

I lean into his warmth and drink it in like victory until the world slowly crumbles. When the cold is creeping in, the ghosts of victims wait in darkness, but I cling to life's last anchor and find the strength to face them like a coming storm.

Maybe this is fate. Maybe this is destiny, but at least I know I'm not alone.


End file.
